


On The Edge

by crazddreamer



Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Edging, F/M, POV Female Character, Semi-Public Sex, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazddreamer/pseuds/crazddreamer
Summary: Only one person can get her off, but he likes to play games





	On The Edge

I don’t know how or when it started. The restless, desperate feeling slowly grew, deep in my gut, that somehow ended up pulsing at my clit. A hard throb, in time with my heartbeat. My panties were soaked, and a few times I dashed to the women’s bathroom thinking my jeans showed the evidence, only to find nothing. I was hyper focused on it, absolutely sure that anyone who looked at me could see a flashing neon sign above my head: HORNY HORNY HORNY.

I tried to pay attention to my job, but as time ticked on, my desperation mounted to the point where if I didn’t get some relief soon, I was going to burst into tears. And how was I going to explain to my co-workers that the reason for my outburst was I needed a dick in me?

If I was a normal woman, I could have used that time in the bathroom while checking the status of my clothes to maybe rub my clit to take the edge off. But I wasn’t. Masturbation was not my skill, something Foxy thought was hilariously funny. Who couldn’t get themselves off?

Me. I was that one in a million.

So that left one option, and I wasn’t even sure if it was possible. But as I leaned against the concrete wall in the back hallway of the arena, my eyes closed trying to breathe my way through the agony, I knew I had to try. Otherwise I was going to either claw someone’s eyes out or start rubbing on a chair arm to get some friction. Both ideas were not going to met with approval from the higher ups.

Stalking the hallways, I knew it was going to be hard, but I had to find him. He had this knack of hiding before shows, no one really knew why. Maybe it was so he could get into character, maybe he really was anti-social, all I knew was that every once in a while he was up for some fun, and at that moment, I needed him.

I turned a corner and to my surprise, I saw him standing in the middle of the space, talking to a producer. Dean Ambrose. I came to a halt, my stomach flipping. We generally didn’t interact much at work, maybe a quick hello or a nod as we passed each other in catering. For me to pull him aside, would that be weird?

Clad in black jeans, and a white tank top, a mottled color bomber jacket on top, he looked delicious. Close cropped hair, full beard, blue eyes, he truly was a sexy sight to behold. A sharp throb in my clit reminded me of my mission, and I edged to the wall, slowly walking until I was behind the producer, in Dean’s eyeline.

At first he didn’t see me. His hands were on his hips, and they were going over a script, the producer outlining exactly what he wanted Dean to say or do. But when he looked up, his blue eyes locked on me, and a sly smile ghosted on his face before it was gone.

I tilted my head, indicating that I wanted him to follow me. Dean gave a slight nod, finished his conversation with the producer, clapping him on the shoulder, then watched the young man walk away. I didn’t say a word, just turned and made my way past some equipment boxes into a dim alcove. Dean was right behind me, and when I faced him, I felt a gush of wetness flood my panties, nearly making me moan.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know we don’t usually talk at work, but…”

The space was small, and he was almost pressed up against my chest. “What do you need?”

“You, I need you. Oh my God I feel like I’m going out of my mind!” I could only imagine what I looked like, flushed, the visible clenching of my thighs as I tried anything to quell the throbbing of my core.

A flash of mischievousness in Dean’s eyes, and then it was gone, and his face was contemplative again. “Really? What’s the problem?” He tilted his head, his body still not touching mine, but the heat of his skin, knowing what he could do to me, had me squirming against the wall.

Moaning a little, my eyelids drooped. “I am so turned on. I can’t focus.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “And it’s so bad you sought me out at work?” I nodded, my eyes begging him to do something. Anything. “You must be very desperate.”

It was then that he closed the fraction of an inch between us, his torso pressed aggressively against my left side, his thigh shoved firmly between mine, and his arm bracing himself against the wall. His sudden nearness, even compared to before, had my heartrate skyrocketing and my breath stuttering. I was in complete overdrive, and he hadn’t even touched me sexually yet.

“I am, I’m very desperate. I need your help!” My hand came up and gripped his bicep through his jacket. “Please, Dean. Please?”

Again, he hummed low in his throat, his blue eyes raking over my face. “Let’s see how I can help.”

A quick jerk of the button on my jeans and Dean’s hand shoved its way into my pants, past my panties, with two fingers deep in my core before I could even take a breath. A loud gasp, as if I had been unexpectedly tossed into a pool of water, tore through my body.

Dean glared at me, his face right next to mine. The hand previously braced against the wall came down and covered my mouth, effectively muffling all the noises I couldn’t stop from escaping. “Quiet, or you won’t get what you need.”

I locked my gaze with his, trying to use his stare as an anchor. His fingers slid from my pussy and I whined behind his heavy hand. Using the copious amount of juices from my body, he began rubbing my clit furiously, stopping every once in a while to dip back in to collect more.

“How does that feel? Is this want you wanted? To get off in a dark corner at work? Feeling my fingers fucking you deep and hard?”

With his hand still clasped tightly against my face, there was no way I could answer him. I wouldn’t have had a coherent response, anyway. My whole body felt as if I was going to explode at any moment. My hands gripped Dean’s jacket in pure desperation, my eyes pleading with him to finish me off.

I knew that it wouldn’t take long, not with my current state and Dean’s amazing skills, but I was still surprised when my orgasm started to build. My body pushed against his hand, and I leveraged myself up to my tip toes, simultaneously trying to get away from the building pressure and press closer to the release I knew was coming.

Suddenly, Dean stepped back, pulling his hands away from my body. The keen that came from me sounded tortured, and truly I was. Looking up at him, he grinned at me, chuckled, and walked away. “I have a match.”

I watched him go, confused and ready to cry. Quickly straightening my clothes, I stepped out of the alcove, seeing Dean turn the corner into Gorilla. Across the hall from me was catering, so I stepped in, hoping to find something to distract me from my overwhelming thoughts.

In the corner was a TV showing the live feed. A few other superstars were milling around the area, but no one I really wanted to talk to. I made my way over to the TV, hearing Dean’s music hit both in the arena and on the TV. He walked out, his gruff, cocky, ice cold stare planted on his face. As he sauntered down to the ring, my eyes caught sight of his hand. Two fingers seemed wet. Like dripping wet.

Mentally, I clocked the time it took him to walk to Gorilla, as I saw him do, and then for his music to hit. It wasn’t more than a minute and a half. And there were no bathrooms in the area of Gorilla.

As Dean stepped into the ring, my heart stopped. He hadn’t washed his hands. My juices were covering his fingers. And he had a match.

I stood there frozen. Mortified, and even more turned on than I was before. I wasn’t even sure how that was possible. Why didn’t he wash his hands? Or dry them off, at least? He could have wiped them on his pants, a towel, the ring apron,  _anything._

His opponent’s music hit. Baron Corbin made his way to the ring and stood toe to toe with Dean, who had finally taken off his jacket. He still held his hands open and away from his body, not listening as Baron started trash talking.

The bell rang and Dean was on him, throwing punches and rocking Baron off his feet. As soon as he was on his knees, Dean swung around behind him and  _shoved his fingers in Baron’s mouth._ The same fingers that had been inside my pussy only minutes before.

Baron’s eyes went wide in confusion, and I saw his tongue dart out, almost unintentionally, tasting what Dean had offered him. My stomach clenched, my thighs quivered, and I felt light headed. Even watching Dean pull his fingers out, reposition so that he was pinching Baron’s nose, and then again put his fingers back in his opponent’s mouth, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Dean’s expression was smug satisfaction.

Whirling away from the TV, I ran out of the room, confused and desperate. I was desperate for Dean to finish what he started, and desperate to understand why he walked away.

***

Every movement had little cries or keens coming out of my throat. I was sitting in a folding chair next to the girls while they were getting their hair or makeup done, my legs crossed. Then uncrossed. Then I turned to the side, then I moved back.

Restless was not the word for what I was. I was edgy, and I was getting confused and concerned looks from everyone within earshot from me as I tried to stop the clenching of my core. My panties were ruined, and I had taken them off an hour ago. They weren’t doing any good anyway.

The conversation around me sounded like a dull roar. I couldn’t focus on anything or anyone. I drifted during conversations, then blushed when I realized I had no idea what had been said to me.

A tap on my shoulder had me looking up, finding Dean Ambrose standing over me. I had tried to find him after his match, but as usual, he had disappeared. Actually, I had assumed he had left, as he normally did. But there he was, his intense blue eyes locked on mine, his mouth twisted in a tempting smile. “Can I borrow you?” he asked.

I was shocked. I couldn’t remember a time he had ever sought me out, so I nodded and stood, ignoring the questioning looks from the gaggle of ladies behind me as I followed him through the halls of the arena. Taking my elbow, he opened and door and guided me inside a dark closet, closing and locking the door behind us.

“Dean—”

“Shh.”

His hands pressed me against the wall and his hands fumbled at my jeans. Immediately my body began thrumming, and I arched into his hands when he tugged my pants down. Fingers found their spot inside of me, and his low voice was against my ear, causing chills to break out across my body.

“Still so wet? Do you still need what I can give you?” He didn’t let me answer, his teeth finding my earlobe and nibbling gently. “Did you see what I gave Corbin? A small taste. The only taste he’ll ever have of you, right? Because when you need to get off, who you come to? Huh? Say it.”

“You. I come to you,” I panted. I didn’t know what Dean’s issue with Corbin was. As far as I knew he wasn’t interested in me, nor I in him. But Dean must have picked up on something that neither of us were aware of.

My hands went to wrap themselves around his waist, but he pushed me away, ignoring my groan of frustration. Even in the darkness, I sensed Dean dropping to his knees, yanking my jeans further down my thighs. With force I didn’t know I’d appreciate, he shoved his face between my thighs, humming at the gasp I let loose. My hands found his shoulders, and I hunched over his body, my pussy riding Dean’s tongue and mouth, uncaring if I was hurting him, smothering him, or drowning him.

My body was not my own, all my instincts begging me to find my release and be sated. My hips thrusted forward and backwards, ignoring Dean’s hands as they tried to slow me down. All my frustration and agony of the day was bearing down on me, and I wanted, no needed, to explode.

One of Dean’s hands came up between us and he shoved against my chest, causing me to stumble backwards against the wall. His mouth never detached from me. Leaving the hand pressed against me, he used his other hand to sneak around my leg, pressing three fingers deep inside of me.

“Dean!” I yelled. Fuck who could hear us. I was too far gone. “Oh please. Please fuck me with your fingers. Oh my God. It feels so good!”

One minute he was there, and I was in rapture, and the next he was gone, the closet door opening and closing as he left the room.

Once again, my stomach dropped low into my stomach, my body screaming for friction and release. I was standing on the edge of a precipice and all I wanted was to be pushed off.

Yet once again, Dean Ambrose called the shots, leaving me high and dry. Groaning with frustration, I passed a finger over my clit, trying to see if I could just do it myself. After a few tries, my body continued it’s cool down, ignoring my attempts and I angrily yanked my jeans up, turning to kick a bucket beside me.

I was going to get off tonight. No matter what.

***

Just a short while later, I had given up. I was visibly shaking, sweating, jumpy, and extremely paranoid about the wetness in my pants. The looks I was receiving backstage from co-workers was of suspicion and worry. No doubt they probably assumed I was on drugs of some sort.

If Dean Ambrose’s dick was a drug, I was addicted. Mentally I whined. I wasn’t sure why he was torturing me, but at this point my only intention was to get to the hotel, check into my room, find some vodka, and drink myself into a stupor. Hopefully the next day would be calmer, and the urge to ride  _anyone’s_ dick would subside.

Leaving the arena, defeated and frustrated, I pulled my luggage behind me as I approached my rental car in the parking garage. Next to my vehicle was a large white box van, blocking my view. Popping open the trunk with the key fob, I slid my luggage in and slammed the trunk shut, screaming when I caught sight of Dean leaning against the side of my car.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He gave me a small grin, his head resting on his hand, arm propped up on the top of the car. “On edge, are you?”

I glared at him, moving to stand in front of him. “No thanks to you.”

A feigned looked of innocence crossed his face, and he gestured to his chest. “What? Me? Come on, I’ve been helping you all night.”

Growling at him, I moved to push past him, trying to get to the driver’s side door, but he grabbed my arm and pushed me against the white van.

“What are you doing?” I asked, looking up at him.

Hooded eyes started down at me. “Work for it.” His voice was deep and husky, emanating more from his chest than his throat, and instantly, more wetness flooded out of me. I moaned, feeling the friction of my jeans rubbing on my clit, the throbbing making me crazy.

Without thinking, I dropped to my knees, frantically pulling and tugging on his belt and zipper. As I slid his pants down, his cock sprang forward and my mouth was on it.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

Sheer desperation fueled me. I pushed my throat farther on his dick than I ever had before, loving the moans and grunts spilling from his lips. He had driven me insane for hours, and I was going to return the favor. My tongue dashed against his skin as my hands stroked the length I couldn’t fit. The sounds echoing in the parking garage were loud and lewd, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care if anyone heard or saw us. I wasn’t stopping until I was cumming on his dick and screaming his name.

Dean’s hand wrapped itself into my hair as he stepped closer to me, pinning me against the van. Holding himself still deep in my throat, he stared at me as he watched my eyes water. After an intense minute, he released my hair, grabbed my arm, and dragged me upright.

Turning me around, he pressed me face against the window. “Stay there,” he gruffed.

I nodded, breathing hard. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, my pants were again shoved down to my thighs. Dean positioned my hips so that my ass jutted out and he slapped it hard as he shoved his cock deep inside my dripping pussy in one thrust.

I screamed against the window, my cries echoing off the concrete around us. Dean’s pace was face and aggressive, slaps raining down on my upturned ass, his grunts loud behind me. “Gonna fuck this pretty pussy until you cream all over my dick. You said you needed my help, and Babygirl, I’ve delivered. Didn’t I?”

My breath was used for yelps and moans, I couldn’t spare enough to answer him.

“Feeling your pussy clench on my fingers made me so hard. I wanted to fuck you right there in the arena. But duty called, Babygirl. Had a match, and promos. I couldn’t give you the attention you needed.”

He was rambling. He had never talked this much before, but each and every word made my core weep with want.

“You tasted so good. But I knew, oh I knew, that this would be worth it.”

Finally, words seemed to be available to me again. “Yes, yes, oh my God, Dean. It’s worth it. Your dick is worth it. Fuck!”

My legs shook as a mini orgasm washed through me. It heralded bigger things to come, as I felt my abs lock up and my back began to arch.

Wrapping his hand in my hair, he pulled me back against his chest, leaning the both of us against the van. His weight knocked me breathless, and my ribs ached with strain. But my pussy squeezed him tighter and tighter as air became harder and harder to come by.

In my ear, Dean was growling and grunting. “Gonna fuck this tight pussy. Come on, cum on my cock. Fuck yeah, come on.”

My mouth opened in a silent scream, blackness tinting my vision, my orgasm crashing through me like a rogue wave. Juices covered Dean’s cock, the sound of wetness adding to the echoes. “DEAN!”

He stayed where he was, his hips never stopping, right up until the moment I was dropping into unconsciousness before letting my hair go and straightening up. I sucked air into my lungs, the action somehow causing another major orgasm. Dean’s hand slapped my ass one more time before he reached around, pressed his thumb to my clit, and roared as my clenching pussy strangled his cock.

I could feel his cum flood me. Exhausted, I pressed my sweaty forehead to the window of the van, panting and moaning as aftershocks hit me.

Slowly, Dean pulled out of me, whistling when our combined juices began to run down my thighs. Reaching to pull me into his arms, he kissed the top of my head. “I’m not done with you, not by a long shot. Get in the car, I’m planning on fucking you all night.”

He moved away, fixing his pants as I heaved against the van, my pants still around my knees, cum dripping from my pussy, my make up smeared across the window and my face. Finally, after what felt like days, I was satisfied. Enough to take the edge off. But as I watched Dean climb into the car after tossing his luggage in the backseat, I knew, it would be hours before I was sated.

 

 


End file.
